


A Response Following a Physical Injury or Deeply Disturbing Event

by GarnetsAndRoses



Series: Definitions of Words You Never Want to Hear [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dream Team SMP - Freeform, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gaslighting, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, hydrophobia, it's the sequel to a fic about waterboarding, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetsAndRoses/pseuds/GarnetsAndRoses
Summary: Sequel to "A Physical and Psychological Sensation Similar to that of Drowning."After what happened to him at the hands of Dream, Tommy hasn't seemed quite right. Is there a reason why his face is always dirty? Tubbo goes to investigate one night.
Series: Definitions of Words You Never Want to Hear [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056455
Comments: 26
Kudos: 130





	A Response Following a Physical Injury or Deeply Disturbing Event

**Author's Note:**

> TW: everything in the tags, and a graphic depiction of someone coughing water as the result of a near-drowning

The four government members sank into their chairs around the camarvan’s creaky table, sighing and wiping obsidian dust off onto their pants. Quackity cackled as Fundy missed his jump into his swivel chair and nearly toppled off of the suddenly-twirling seat. Tommy grinned and started spinning around too, kicking off of the table for momentum.

“Shush!” called Tubbo, banging his clipboard on the table. “I know that it was hard work taking down part of the walls, but we’re not done yet. We still have to decide what terms to include in our treaty, and—”

Fundy interrupted, “It _was_ hard work, and we’re all gross and dirty now! Can’t we reconvene after taking showers or something?”

Tubbo’s brow furrowed.

Nodding, Quackity joined in Fundy’s complaints. He grabbed Tommy’s arm and held it up while pointing at the boy’s grimy palm. “I mean, just look at Tommy!” Quackity did a double-take and quickly amended his words. “Wait, I meant it as a joke but your hands are hella dirty, dude!”

Tommy yanked his hand back and concealed his black-encrusted fingernails underneath the table. Shriveling underneath the inquisitive stares of the others, he sank into his seat. Their eyes raked across the splotches on his bare arms, the dust coating his face and streaking across his nose, and the oily sheen to his hair.

“Just . . . leave me alone!” snapped Tommy. Jerking himself out of his seat, he threw open the door of the camarvan and stalked off across the pockmarked hills until he faded from view.

The silence that had descended over the space was thick and curled around the three people there. Fundy rubbed the back of his neck with a paw and made eye contact with Quackity, whose mouth was barely opened around unformed words. Clearing his throat to dislodge the quiet, Tubbo declared, “I’m sure Tommy will be fine. Can we _please_ continue with the plans for the treaty?”

Ugh. Did that sound dismissive? It wasn’t good for any president if his subordinates thought he didn’t value his vice president—

“Of course we can continue,” replied Quackity cheerily. The teen rotated in his chair before going on a spiel about how they should guarantee true sovereignty from Dream. Fundy nodded and added something about the original constitution.

Tubbo smiled. Of course he didn’t have to worry. His authority was assured with just a few token smiles . . . And of course, he’d check on Tommy later.

  * • •



It was almost dark as Tubbo made his way towards Tommy’s house, whistling and burying his hands in his suit’s thin pockets. The stout home jutted out of the hill it was built into, its stone curves lit up by a few sloppily-placed torches. But still, Tubbo loved the home for all of its imperfections.

He pushed open the door. The sound of a roaring shower in the distant bathroom greeted him, and he smiled. Of course Tommy was cleaning up.

But awful, choking noises emerged through the pattering of water on tiles. Tubbo made his way towards the bathroom in befuddlement, listening closely as the sound of weeping grew louder. Finally he pressed his nose against the door to the bathroom and called, “Tommy?”

The tinny voice kept sobbing.

“Can I come in? Are you okay?” demanded Tubbo. His voice cracked on the last word. “I have to come in, Tommy, I need to make sure you’re okay!” He fiddled with his suit jacket’s buttons and pulled it off before opening the door.

Tommy sat, still in his grimy clothes, with his back against the shower’s glass door. He was weeping, letting the tears pour across his face and land on the tiles of the floor.

Tubbo rushed forward and seized Tommy by the shoulders. “Tommy, are you okay? Tommy, answer me.”

His friend didn’t look up, only cried more and let his head slump towards the floor.

“Tommy, _snap out of it!_ ” shouted Tubbo, shaking him.

Tommy choked back another sob and looked up with wet eyes that held only fear. His body was suddenly tense and coiled.

Tubbo winced, realizing what he’d done. “Aw, Toms, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry for snapping at you, Tomsy . . .” He draped his suit jacket over the silent teen, and hugged him tightly. His fingers gently ruffled Tommy’s hair. “You know I didn’t mean that, right? Tommy, I’d never _really_ yell at you.”

The shower continued to run, the water nearly drowning out their soft words.

“Yeah . . . “ whispered Tommy. He stared past Tubbo at the bathroom’s blank walls. “You’re so good to me, T- Tubbo.”

Tubbo pulled away to stare at Tommy. “Tomsy, I care so much about you.” He brushed away the oily bangs that flopped over Tommy’s face, kissing his forehead gently.

Tommy’s eyes welled with tears. “ _Tubbo_ , weren't you there? I thought you were _there_ and you did the same thing.”

“What?”

“You held my hair, Tubbo, and you let Dream—” Tommy swiped his face with his hand and sucked in air in between hiccups. “Did you try to stop them?”

Tubbo wrapped his arms around Tommy. So this was just a case of him needing reassurance, sure. Tubbo could make Tommy feel better without having to admit that he was fine with the torture. That remorse had to be buried and smothered by shovelfuls of confidence if he wanted to stay president. He whispered, nearly biting his tongue on the lie, “Of course I tried to stop them, Tommy. I tried to be fair but Dream and George were very insistent that we had to punish you.”

Tommy’s tears left clean streaks in the dirt left across his cheeks. “Yeah. And you didn’t want to, right?”

“Of course,” cooed the brunette, gently patting Tommy’s head. “And of course it must have been hard, but you learned your lesson. Right?”

Tommy nodded before hoarsely admitting, “I haven’t showered since then. I just couldn’t . . . stand the water. It was _all around me_ , Tubbo, and if I wasn’t careful it would . . . drown me.” Behind him, water pounded against the shower tiles. The teen glanced back at the shower before flinching.

Tubbo leaned back, letting go of Tommy to ask, “Is it okay if we clean you up a bit, Toms? I can use a washcloth or something. I want you to look presentable for the meeting tomorrow.”

“Sure . . . sure.” Tommy stared down and grasped at the hem of his shirt.

The president stood up and opened the shower door to switch off the spray, frowning as his sleeve was soaked before he could pull his arm back. He turned and grabbed a washcloth off of the bathroom’s towel rack and turned the sink on, letting the water permeate the soft gray fabric. On the floor, Tommy’s breathing quickened as the stream of water splashed in the sink bowl. Tubbo rapidly shut the faucet off and sat down in front of Tommy.

“Can you be good for me, Tomsy? Just sit there, be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

Tommy nodded and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Tubbo gently raised the soaked fabric to his face.

Tubbo started on Tommy’s nose where the dusty stains were most concentrated, drawing the washcloth across his friend’s nose and across his eyelids. He moved onto the other teen’s forehead, carefully wiping away the deep brown smudges. “We have to make sure Dream thinks we’re put together when we meet him tomorrow, or else it’ll make a bad impression.”

“I’m sorry,” pleaded Tommy. “I didn’t mean to mess it all up for us—” His apology was cut off as he began to cough violently, folding over.

Recoiling, Tubbo asked, “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

Tommy put a hand to his mouth as he continued hacking. Water dribbled out from between his fingers and splattered across the bathroom floor. The coughing stopped suddenly, and he stared at his liquid-stained hand with panicked eyes.

“Oh God, Tommy, are you okay?” demanded Tubbo, wiping the water away from Tommy’s mouth.

His friend’s chest rattled as he whispered, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Tommy’s hand trembled and he rapidly swiped it across his pant legs. “Tubbo, I’m so very okay, that just happens sometimes. Seriously, I’m in such good health please don’t tell anyone _please—_ ”

Tubbo shushed Tommy, and the younger teen fell silent. Only wheezing breaths echoed around the bathroom until Tubbo decided, “That’s okay, I won’t tell anyone else.”

“Thanks, Tubbo.”

“No problem!” cheerfully replied the brunette. He raised the washcloth to Tommy’s face for the second time, wiping away the grime as he continued, “It’s a big help that my vice president is so self-sufficient, you know. It would be inconvenient if I had to call Ponk all the way over here . . .”

Tommy let Tubbo wipe his face and laughed softly, “You know me, I’m the most self-sufficient here. A big man doesn’t need any help!”

Tubbo nodded and reshaped his pensive expression back into a smile. “That’s good to hear. I’ll be off to write that treaty, now.” He stood and stretched, tossing the washcloth into the hamper standing by the door.

Tommy mumbled a goodbye as Tubbo grabbed the suit jacket off of the floor and disappeared behind a wall of the small house. A slam of the home’s wooden door quickly followed and soon there was nothing for Tommy to listen to except for his shaky breathing. He struggled to his feet and shifted unsteadily on his bare feet. His eyes traveled to the shower, which seemed to mock him behind the layer of droplet-covered glass.

Tubbo needed him to be presentable, right? Tubbo wanted him happy, right? Tubbo cared about him, right? But he’d care about Tommy more if he got over this _stupid_ fear. So Tommy just had to grit his teeth and do the right thing . . .

His hand stretched towards the faucet and jerked it on.

**Author's Note:**

> i know this took me a long time to write, but i like it! this fic is what i've been whittling down on my mcyt advent prompts to have time to write for, and i'm so glad to finally finish. there'll be a 3rd installment that will be a longfic set in this au following tommy's exile and the state of the smp under dream's increasingly tyrannical rule. stay tuned for that :3


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